Braids
by OneWhoTurns
Summary: [Modern/College AU oneshot ft Elizabeth Boone from my first impressions fic.] Seeing an injured Lizzie struggling with her hair, Jacob reveals he's not too bad with braids.


_A/N: This was inspired by a comic and an ask on tumblr, both claiming that Jacob has, at some point in his life, been the one braiding Evie's hair. I was inspired, so I stuck my OC from **first impressions** with Jacob into a modern/college au for this li'l ficlet. Enjoy!_

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"This is your fault, you know." Elizabeth grit her teeth as she pressed her plastered wrist to the crown of her head, the other hand awkwardly trying to squeeze a brush between neck and shoulder to smooth her hair down, shooting a glare at the man's reflection in her mirror.

Jacob was smiling.

Was he ever _not_ smiling?

"'Course it is."

No: _smirking_.

He pushed off the door of her dorm room, taking a few easy steps to hop up onto the edge of her bed, catching her eyes in the mirror again as he began spinning the fringe of her blanket around his fingers.

Her cool gaze narrowed, unsure if he was being facetious. It was his fault she'd fallen, after all. If he hadn't grabbed her rucksack before he'd run hooting out onto the ice, if he hadn't teased and wheedled and pouted for Elizabeth to come join, watching her with that mischievous grin as he'd slipped his fingers into her bag (if she hadn't been a little too aware of what she'd had in that bag, how she _really_ didn't want him pulling that out for the whole campus to see…) then she wouldn't have run out after him, wouldn't have slipped on the ice, tripped on the frozen branch poking out of it, and attempted to catch herself on what was now a very injured wrist.

"It is." Her tone was flat, wry, reassured of her correctness. She continued her attempt at tugging the tangles out of her hair. She almost had it all done, but she'd been working on it for nearly half an hour now. And pulling it back was going to be a pain as well, but she didn't want to go to class with it down, either, not with the blustering wind outside sure to make a mess of it before her Very Important Presentation later. The final tug made her wince, but at least it was over.

Elizabeth caught Jacob's curious gaze in the reflection once more before using her good hand to comb back through her locks, considering her best course of action. Lips set in a determined line, she did her best to make a ponytail - first with her good hand then, awkwardly, with some assistance of her plastered wrist. A quick twirl was easy-ish, pulling the lot of it into a twisted bun. A few attempts later, half-casted fingers wiggled painfully - pathetically - as she pushed the hair elastic down her good wrist and over the lump of hair- where it very quickly sagged. She scowled.

At the small huff of laughter she turned an accusing glare on her - what was he, even? Her _almost_ boyfriend, her 'they thought about hooking up that one time, but they were drunk' - expecting more of the same wicked glee at her failure. Instead, she saw an odd softness in his expression, his crooked grin less smirk and more… affection, maybe. Whatever it was. That look that made her stomach flip and heat creep up her neck.

He stood from where he'd been perched, walking up behind her as he stripped off his winter gloves, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly before reaching for her hairbrush.

Her good hand reached out to grab his wrist. "Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?" Her eyebrows had shot up incredulously. "If you think I'm about to trust _you_ , when this presentation is going to be half my midterm-"

Jacob's slight smirk returned as he shrugged off her hold easily. "I think you forget I have a sister."

That was enough to quiet her, though Elizabeth still watched with narrowed eyes, folding her hands into her lap in acquiescence. She tried to ignore the goosebumps rising on her skin at his fingers brushing the nape of her neck as he undid the hair tie, slipping it onto his own wrist. A firm hand rested on the crown of her head, as she'd attempted before, running the brush through in long strokes far more efficient than hers had been. She glanced down at her hands, fidgeting as the nubbly bristles scraped gently against her skin.

"I used to braid Evie's hair sometimes. Especially - there was this one time, she was in a cycling accident, hurt her collarbone, couldn't raise her arm above her shoulder." Elizabeth hadn't expected his fingers to be so deft, so nimble, as he ran them through her hair, sectioning pieces and brushing the rest over one shoulder. "It was- well, actually, it was a little pathetic. Only took one day to have her in tears."

Her eyes widened before she shot him an incredulous look in the mirror. "Evie?" She'd never even imagined Jacob's sister crying.

He nodded with a crooked smile. "She's not 'specially fond of being restricted. I mean - you've seen her, range of movement is important." He shrugged, starting to weave strands of hair over and under one another. "Anyway, she was so frustrated, she was about to order me to cut it all off. Instead, grabs a book and shoves it at me - yeah, even injured she could still knock me on my ass - and orders me to do _something_."

"And you did." She didn't quite believe him. "Because you're… such an accommodating brother?" It didn't exactly sound like the Jacob she knew, who just the day before had pelted his sister in the back of the head with a snowball while she was talking with her history TA.

Those hazel eyes sparked as he caught her gaze in the mirror and he gave the half-finished braid a soft tug. Elizabeth hastily stifled the involuntary noise caught in her throat at the sensation, trying to ignore the flush sweeping over her skin, glancing away quickly but not quick enough to miss that self-satisfied smirk. Still, he didn't tease her about it, his voice sardonic. "Because she threatened to shave _my_ head if I didn't cooperate. And I wouldn't put it past her, either - she's a plotter, that one. I would've woken in my bed half bald."

A small smile lit on Elizabeth's lips as well, at that. Sounded about right.

Jacob's fingers twirled the elastic around one braid before moving to the other side, once more combing through her hair in a way that made Elizabeth shift in her seat. "Stop fidgeting." His command was half-teasing rather than demanding, tugging at her hair again. "You'll make them uneven."

She rolled her eyes but settled once more, trying desperately to ignore that brief moment his actions had made her insides jelly. "So you learned to braid for Evie."

"I did," he nodded. "Learned braids first. Then, once I got tired of her making me braid her hair all the time, learned knots."

Knots- She jerked away from his hold, but it was firm, unyielding, keeping her in place, his grin wicked at the involuntary groan that slipped from her mouth. Elizabeth did her best to dismiss it, hoping her angry look excused the heat on her skin. "Jacob Frye you had better not be-"

His brows had lifted in delight, grin broadening, "Had better _knot_ be?"

Her glare was scathing. Stupid boy. Stupid puns.

"I'm not, Lizzie. Or - I'm not _knot_ -ing it, just braiding, I promise." There was a sort of mocking reassurance in his tone, in that familiar smirk, but she believed him enough. Still, she watched with eagle eyes as he finished off her second braid before untying the first to complete some sort of complex manoeuvre to weave the two together, first tying it off and then reaching for a couple bobby pins and expertly opening them with his teeth before pinning away the stray strands. "All done."

Grudgingly, she had to admit it looked quite good.


End file.
